


change my mind (are we friends or are we more?)

by renehasalotoffeelings



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Bi Sasha James, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Kissing, New Year's Kiss, because of course, bi tim stoker, in the archives, nearly a get together fic, thats not important but pls know they arent het, there is a wee bit of vomiting as to be expected at a nye party, workplace new years eve party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:21:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25179106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renehasalotoffeelings/pseuds/renehasalotoffeelings
Summary: "Some time around her fifth tequila shot, Tim finds her sitting on the floor by the punch. He sits down with her, and bumps her shoulder with his.“How’s it going, Miss Archivist?” Sasha rolls her eyes at this; while Jon might be very heavily wine drunk, he is just over there. She lifts her cup up in response, asking him to refill it for her. He does, and she rests her head on his shoulder as he passes her back the cup."The Magnus staff have a New Years Party. Some mistakes are made.
Relationships: Sasha James/Tim Stoker
Kudos: 13





	change my mind (are we friends or are we more?)

Elias was _really_ shit at throwing parties.  
New Years Eve, 2014. An hour till midnight. No drinks.  
Maybe it was on purpose. It wouldn’t surprise Sasha if Elias was so uptight that he refused to buy them any alcohol. She could almost hear his irritating voice, _This is a workplace, I will not have any impropriety in my archives_. (And anyway, who throws a _party_ in the _archives_??) But he’s a no-show. As is the alcohol. Even Jon is looking restless, and Tim is tapping his foot by the door, counting down the minutes till he can leave (any minute now, if the ping of his Uber app is anything to go by). Martin is in the break room fixing tea for everyone, or really, just Jon. Some of the other archival staff are still standing around, equally disgruntled, but most of them split around 10 after it became apparent Elias wasn’t going to show up and fix this any time soon. Sasha didn’t even know why she was still here. Maybe she should just catch a ride with-  
“Guys! Alcohol’s here!” Tim shouts from the door.  
“Huzzah!” Sasha shouts, and Martin hurries back into the break room, tea forgotten, to help Tim with the boxes (so many boxes) of booze. Sasha can’t believe he really bought so much. She immediately starts unpacking them, handing whoever’s closest whatever she’s currently holding in her hand (though Jon demands wine, which is in a whole other box to the one she’s rifling around in when he asks). There’s wine, vodka, gin, pretty much a bottle of everything, and once the first bottle is opened, it all turns very hazy very quickly. Sasha’s pouring vodka in the punch with Tim, snickering like it’s a high school dance, and Jon is gulping glass after glass of wine. Martin seems to be the only one pacing himself, but all Sasha can think is _We only have an hour to get as drunk as possible_ , so she downs loads of shots of various liquors, pouring cups full of punch into her mouth in between.  
Some time around her fifth tequila shot, Tim finds her sitting on the floor by the punch. He sits down with her, and bumps her shoulder with his.  
“How’s it going, Miss Archivist?” Sasha rolls her eyes at this; while Jon might be very heavily wine drunk, he is just over there. She lifts her cup up in response, asking him to refill it for her. He does, and she rests her head on his shoulder as he passes her back the cup.  
“‘M just thinking about how much more tequila shots I can have before-” hiccup “-before I die of alcohol poisoning.”  
Tim laughs. “Isn’t there someone else who’s murder we should be plotting?”  
“Tiiiiiiim,” Sasha whines.  
“Sashaaaaaaaa,” He replies. “Anyway, I rather think he’ll do it himself. How many bottles is that now?”  
“Not enough for him to be nice to Martin yet.”  
“Never mind that. I think Martin’s putting on a playlist…”  
“Oh, no…”  
It’s very, _very_ sappy. And it’s clearly his feels-y Jon playlist. But by now Martin is quite buzzed, and Jon is near-unresponsive with his head on Martin’s shoulder (he’s drooling, but Martin is still batting his eyelashes). As soon as _Total Eclipse of the Heart_ comes on, Tim locks eyes with Sasha, and hauls her to the middle of the room to perform the worst duet anyone had ever heard. As Martin’s more mellow love songs take precedence, they instead fall into each other’s arms, just swaying with each other, holding hands and drinks, holding each other up because at this point, both of them would fall if not for the support of the other. Sasha can feel her heart thumping despite herself, her cheeks getting hotter by the second. Tim’s arms wrapped around her, his hands on the small of her back, his chin resting on top of her head.... In the middle of whatever brooding, pining song is playing, Sasha suddenly feels like vomiting. It's definitely unrelated to the feelings swelling up in her chest. She grips Tims biceps (“Woah, steady.” “I’m fine, I just-”) and hauls herself out of his arms, stumbling towards the bathrooms.  
She runs the taps, but that’s as far as she gets before she hurls into the sink. _God, I hope he can’t hear this_ …. Sasha does not need for anyone to be hearing this, actually. She rinses it down the sink, waits in case there’s a second wave, and then gargles water in her mouth. When she emerges, Tim’s there waiting for her.  
He pulls her over to sit against the wall, and gives her a cup of water. They watch a couple of researchers grinding against each other to a crooning love song, and then Sasha leans her head on his shoulder and nods off for a few minutes.  
And then it’s midnight, and Sasha and Tim have to lean on each other to turn an ancient telly on for the countdown. He’s warm on her side, and though she’s a lot shorter, he’s holding onto her to prevent himself from falling, and she slides her arm around his bicep as the countdown starts. It’s too hot, but she still grips him tighter. The presenters on telly, some annoying talent show chumps, start the countdown with the mass of crowds in the center of London, and they can hear premature (not to mention _illegal_ , which Jon was somehow still sober enough to comment on) fireworks going off somewhere near them. Everyone’s waiting in excited anticipation for the new year, and Sasha finds herself looking up at Tim as everyone shouts. He looks down at her, deliberation clear in his eyes, and as it hits midnight, he leans down and presses his lips to hers. It’s quick, over before it really began, but Sasha can already feel complicated emotions whipping up her insides, and Tim’s face contorts into regret. Before she can really think, she’s pulling him down again. There’s time now, time to move her lips against his, to sigh into him, to hold him tighter while the world spins.  
The moment is broken by a flash going off. Inexplicably, Jon is wandering around taking photos of everyone, for no apparent reason, and he just took a photo of their kiss. Sasha rips the Polaroid photo from him before Tim can even register, and shoves it in her pocket. As much as she enjoyed it, this can not be a thing. _This is a workplace_ she hears Elias’ voice rocketing around in her head(why is she hearing Elias' voice in her head??). She has to go.  
“I-” She can’t speak. “I’m leaving.”  
Tim’s eyes fill with confusion, but she just grabs her coat and runs. It’s only when she’s on the Piccadilly home that she pulls the Polaroid out of her pocket. It’s crumpled, only barely developed on the edges, but she stares at it until she can see her and Tim. Kissing. Her hand is on his neck, his tangled in her hair, eyes scrunched shut and lips connected. She shuts her eyes, cold tears spilling out as she tries to quash the fire in her heart. This is nothing. It can’t mean anything. It _can’t_. She won’t let it.  
The next time Sasha sees Tim, at work a few weeks later, she does her best to ignore him, and to ignore the hurt so present in his eyes. She ghosts him when he texts her, only ever indirectly replying to him in the work group chat. She knows she’s hurting him, but it hurts more for her to accept this. So, she continues interacting with him at the bare minimum, and goes home early every day to avoid running into him when he inevitably stays late. If the others notice, they don’t mention it - and Sasha tells herself she’s grateful for it. She’s definitely grateful for it.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sorry. i promise i'll make it up to y'all


End file.
